


bedtime

by Radio Rascal (Vagrants)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 03:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21047690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrants/pseuds/Radio%20Rascal
Summary: A nightmare? Driving the Mighty Lord Galvatron to seek comfort from another? It's more likely than you think.





	bedtime

The door opened, and Galvatron peered into the hall to make sure it was deserted before leaving his berthroom. His optics were half-closed with sleep and sharp with frustration like the rest of his expression. He had his favorite blanket, made of silver insulating foil, pulled around his head and shoulders, lending his silhouette an odd shape. It made a shuffling noise against his armor as he trudged down the hall.

Nightmares occasionally struck any of the Unicronians—but Galvatron’s in particular ran on the theme of being alone, and it was difficult to self-comfort like that. The first few times they happened, he would lay there and try to become restful again, but quickly learned that way tended to result in repeat performances. For his own sake, he swallowed his ego, admitted defeat, and took the short walk to Cyclonus’s room.

Scourge was gone often, so it was usually the two of them on nights like these. Many of Galvatron’s memories were corrupted or glitched, but he remembered when they lived in Unicron and they would pile up together, covering each other because it was all they had. On Chaar they separated themselves into private rooms, and Scourge started spending days away with the Sweeps just exploring the planet’s surface. On nights like these, when he was afraid, when alone meant hurt, Galvatron thought of those early times and how not all of it was bad.

He stopped just out of the way of Cyclonus’s door and pressed the button to open it. After a second he glanced in and saw his brother still asleep on the berth. Both of them knew of this habit, but he didn’t like confronting it; if Cyc had been awake, Galvatron would have manufactured an excuse and left. So far, though, tonight’s mission was going well.

He picked up his heels and stepped across the room as quietly as possible. Cyclonus tended to sleep close to the edge, probably for this specific reason, so Galvatron had plenty of room to clamber on. The door hissed shut on its own after a few seconds and he paused at the sound, but Cyclonus didn’t stir.

He fussed with the blanket a moment then hunkered down close. There was no unpleasant metal-to-metal contact; any part of Galvatron that touched Cyc was covered with insulating foil. That plus the proximity to another living mech made him very warm very quickly. Low machine-noises came from within Cyc and the walls, filling his dark little bubble with a sort of mechanical lullaby. He dozed, assured now that the nightmare wouldn’t return and he would sleep well.

Until he heard the door open. He froze until he recognized the footsteps that entered the room, but he was still caught and didn’t entirely like it. He peered over his shoulder at Scourge’s distinct winged silhouette standing in the doorway, lightly chastizing himself for forgetting his other brother was back in Trypticon.

“I thought I heard you get up,” Scourge said, then strode forward. He slapped himself down on the berth, folded his wings noisily, and forcefully snuggled against Galvatron’s iron sight.

He frowned and tried to swat at Scourge, but gave up because his arm kept getting stuck in his own blanket. It was a half-sparked pretense, anyway.

The commotion roused Cyc, who picked up his head and blinked at them sleepily. He unstuck his arm from under Galvatron and stretched it out across the berth, which was his way of holding them both without too much contact. Besides that, he predictably didn’t react to his room being invaded.

Scourge smacked his head down on Cyc’s arm like it was a pillow and hooked his digits around Galvatron’s iron sight. He allowed it and squeezed himself into a little ball again. It was warmer than he remembered it being for a long time.

“Good night, you two,” Cyclonus muttered.

“Good night,” Scourge replied.

Galvatron growled and was stubborn. After a second he relented and said, barely audible but enough to be felt, “Good night…”

**Author's Note:**

> happy Decepticon Day! thank you for reading


End file.
